My Mom has always said she has been amazed at how far back I remember things from my youth. I can recall incidents from my past from about the time I was 4 years old some even younger than that. I guess I can remember because I always have enjoyed this life experience I have had. It was in my childhood where I started to climb fences and it didn’t take long for me to learn how.
I can remember when I was a child in my crib and would try to climb out to go explore the vastness of my immediate reality; my house!
When my parents married, they moved around to various places until they found a home in Highlands Texas. It was a small red brick house on the main drag in Highlands…As I remember it, I think the street was even named “Main Street.” it was a 2 bedroom home and to me, it was a huge castle for me to explore.
When I was a baby I was always trying to climb out of my crib and wander around to see what all the doors and crevices had to offer. As my mom explains it, I was always a handful to manage…Even as a toddler. The old house had storage places and crevices behind couches, chairs and closets…It even had this creepy door that would open from the ceiling where steps could unfold and lead you up into this creepy area above the main part of the house. It had this orange fluffy stuff all over and I was always scared if I stepped off into it, I would go under like water and never come back.
I remember when I was about 2 years old, I would throw my pacifier out the window. My mom told me that she would get so frustrated with me and one day told me…
“You throw it out one more time, its gone!”
I did, and my parents, always honoring their word, never gave it back. Maybe this was the point I started to understand the value of ones word. Not that I embraced this distinction for a while, but the understanding was a seed planted.
I had many adventures at this house and in this neighborhood. It was a different era then and kids were allowed to play freely without concerns of being abducted or molested. We were allowed to be “KIDS” and sadly, it seems our society has lost grip with the importance of this developmental process.
I am amazed to watch my grandchildren now with all this area to run and explore who would rather sit in front of the TV and play video games. Nature, to me, was always more exciting than games. The game of life was what always thrilled me, but again, when I was a child, there were only three stations on TV…four in Texas, we had cartoons only came on Saturday and not 24/7 like they are now. Our bikes were our “joysticks” and the neighborhood was our “X-BOX.”
When I was 4 years old, my mother put me out in our fenced yard with my dog to play for the day, while she cleaned the house and took care of my infant sisters. Dad was at work, had opened a small practice in Highlands and was working hard to make a life for this new family they had created. Mom was a “stay at home mom” in these days and took this full time duty on as a passion. She was, and has always been a wonderful mother! And my father, even through our hardships in my teen years, was always an amazing model.
On this day, I got bored with the confinement, noticed the limitations, had experienced all my yard had to offer and was ready to go and find what was beyond those crisscrossed links of fencing.
I took my dog to the fence, had him jump up on the fence, placed one of his back paws in one of those links and climbed up the fence myself to encourage him to climb with me. It wasn’t long before my dog figured out what I wanted him to do, and he started to climb with me. Luckily, I have had a lot of role models that climbed fences with me in my life.
We lived about a half a mile or so from the San Jacinto River and it was a straight shot down the road from my house to the banks. I didn’t know what laid beyond that fence at that time, but I would soon find out!
Me and my dog climbed the fence and took off on our exploration. We headed down the road together and made our way to the banks of the river. I was captured, amazed, engaged and totally thrilled with all of these new found places and things…And again, I was only 4 years old.
We got to the river, and so you understand, the San Jacinto River is a dangerous place for adults to be, let alone children! There are mud holes, alligators, snakes, whirlpools….People die in this river every year… Even to this day, it is a dangerous place for leisure activities.
My dog and I explored the banks for a short time and then I heard something that I would hear many times in my life…
“BRADLEY JAMES GOLDEN…GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!”
And I turned to see my mother getting out of her car and advancing towards me. I walked towards her, smiling with excitement, I couldn’t wait to tell her about all the great stuff I had seen. My dog next to me and once I got within arms length, my mother snatched me up with one hand, dragging me to the car, and swatting me on the butt with her other hand as she drug me back to the car…
“What in the world are you doing” SWAT! “Are you crazy?” SWAT! “What are you thinking?” SWAT! “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is” SWAT! And got me back to the car, me crying, not understanding what I did that was so wrong, but heck, I was only four…How was I to know the dangers!?
As I reflect back, I cannot imagine the terror my mother had when she walked out, found I was gone and then went to look for me. Then to find me on the banks of the river, Oh my God, I am sure she was simply beside herself…My warm butt cheeks were the evidence of that choice!
I continued on with my thrill for adventure many times after that. Many swats, many fears, many lessons…But I have always hated limitations!
At 5 years old, I climbed out of the fence and went off with some neighborhood kids and we explored all over the neighborhood. We found wooded areas that we were sure had Indians in them, found places where, as I look back, it was little hideouts for teenagers to drink and smoke…Whatever…
Old car seats in the woods with little campfire areas, empty beer cans…. We were always thrilled to find places like that. We were sure it was places “Hobos” hung out as they adventured around…I always thought the life of a Hobo would be exciting. It was like a new adventure every time I walked out of that fenced yard!
On this day, we found an old boat in the back of someone’s yard. It was on a trailer, was the typical old boat with a windshield. Behind the windshield were two seats that attached to two other seats that faced backwards and the windshield had a hinged door that would open into the front area where there were bench seating that surrounded the bow. At the back of the boat were two red tanks with hoses that came out of them and went into the engine area of the boat. On those lines were two balls (the kind you use to hand pump and prime the engines with gas).
We climbed into the boat to explore it more and when we got to the red tanks, we picked them up, found they were heavy, had a strong smell to them, we shook them around and the fluid inside of them spilled all over the deck of the boat. We lost interest in these pretty quickly and went to explore the other areas of the boat.
On the passenger side of the boat was a glove box, we opened it, and inside was a large cardboard box with red tipped matches…the ones like you see on the old Western Movies that the cowboys would slide up their pants and they would ignite and then they would light their cigarettes with.
We took the matches out, gave them our best John Wayne effort, but couldn’t get them to light. We both tried a few times with the match heads breaking off and then I discovered how to make it work.
The surface of the boat was rough, and as an adult, I understand it as a way to avoid slipping on the deck but then, I didn’t care. I drug one of the matches across the surface of the boat and it ignited…
OOOOOHHS and AHHHHHHs, came from both of us and we threw it over the boat and onto the ground.
We were gripped by the fantasy of what the boat could offer us and started to pick up the oars and play pirates with them, swinging them at each other, fighting with swords on the deck, and then I had an idea!!
I had seen on a TV show how the pirates escaped from an island one time while the Indians shot flaming arrows at the boat. I told my little friend to go to the back of the boat; I would take the matches since I knew how to make them light, and would throw them at him like flaming arrows and he could swat them away with his sword.
I went to the front of the boat, my friend went to the back, and I started yelling…
“Woo-woo-woo-woo…..woo-woo-woo-woo….”
Just like the Indians did on TV. I would strike a match and throw it at my friend. He is probably a retired professional baseball player now because he rarely missed even one match and would swat them out of the boat or knock the flame off with that oar (sword).
3 matches, 5 matches, 8 matches… Every one of them he was able to hit…Then one made it though!
WHOOOOOOOSH!!!!
The match had hit the floor of the boat and there was a huge flame that ignited at the back of the boat. As you can guess, the fluid was gasoline and the match made it go up like a bomb!
Not sure how we got away without injury, but we both made it out of the boat, jumping from the boat and trailer to what seemed like certain death from the distance to the ground. When we hit the ground, all we could see was huge flames coming from the back of the boat. We got up, took off running a few steps and WHOOOOOOSH….the fuel ignited again.
Terrified, we took off to run home. I was so scared I was crying as I ran and even ran out of one of my shoes. When I got home, my dad had just got home from work and both he and my mom could see something was wrong. I was crying, dirty and only had one shoe on. They asked me what happened and this spurred hysterical crying now…
“We….We….We…”
“What son, what’s wrong?”
“Fire…fire…fire…”
And then the sirens sounded…
My parents, putting two and two together, figured out there was something going on with a fire and went to go see…Taking me with them. You could see the black billowing smoke from our yard to where the boat was burning We quickly made our way to the boat, my father dragging me by one hand my feet barely touching the ground.
When we got there, the boat was fully engulfed with flames…It was a huge red ball of fire now and the fire department pulled up and started to extinguish the flames.
My dad, knowing me, looked at me, terrified, eyes bugging out of his head, my mom intently staring at the flames with her hand over her mouth and said…
“What did you do Bradley…What did you do!?”
Through my fits of crying I was able to explain….
“We…we…we…we were playing and it just caught fire”
“WHAT!!! Playing with what!?”
“I….I….I was an Indian…and he…he …he was a pirate… I…I…I was throwing fire arrows at him…and…and…and…it blew up…”
“WHAAAATTTTT??? What kind of arrows??
“Uhhhm…Uhhhmmm….Uhhhmmm….”
And knowing I am not supposed to play with matches, started to bawl, bowed my head and said…
“Matches.”
My dad handed me to my mom and said…
“Take him home! I am going to go find these people who own this boat.”
And my mom, crying, in shock, took me home in one hand, her other hand over her mouth, crying and got me to the house.
Dad cam home in a fury… He was so mad…And I am sure, terrified at what had taken place. This was the first “real” spanking I ever remember getting.
He took me to my room, took off his belt, and started lashing. Now don’t get me wrong, my parents were never abusive to me, but “spanking” was a VERY common way of enforcing discipline in those days, and my dad was administering equal discipline for my actions.
I remember when the spanking was done; my dad told me to “Go to bed” and walked out of the room. I was crying so hard that I would cry until I was out of air, gasp, and cry again…cry until I was out of air, and gasp again….It was a “shuddering” cry and I remember clearly how impacting this was.
I was talking to a lady one time when I was working with troubled families, she was about my parents age, and we were discussing “spanking” We went on about the pros and cons of it and she made a statement that made me reflect back to this incident. She said…
“You know Brad, I think every parent who has ever spanked their child has spanked them to where they knew “Oh man, that was one swat too many.”
And immediately after she said that, I reflected back to this day…
Shortly after I got this spanking, my father came back into the my room with tears in his eyes and started to explain…
“Son, I am sorry… I was so scared and so mad, I just didn’t know what else to do….That spanking hurt me more than it hurt you and I am sorry”
And ya know what, I believed him!
Not that this was the last spanking I would ever get, but I never got one like that again…And the boat, that was far from the worst thing I have ever done!
Time moved on and my thrills for excitement continued to carry me. A year or so later, while my parents were out having dinner, I was with a babysitter. By this time, both my little sisters could walk and right across Main Street form us was a little hamburger stand. Just like you see in the movies…
Car hops, girls on skates, cars pulling up and the food being brought to them…I remember sitting on the front porch and watching the traffic go in and out of that place for hours…I have always loved to people watch…People, life, movement, energy all of this has always fascinated me! I can still to this day spend an afternoon in a mall and never buy a thing…Just watch the people as they move around. Maybe this is what has drawn me to why I like to work with people…My continuing observation of them.
My parents gave the sitter some money for us to have dinner and she decided to walk us across the street to go eat. I was so excited, I just could not contain myself…And Babysitters… Ha, they didn’t run me!
When she told us we were going to the hamburger joint, she took one of my sisters in one had, my other sister in the other, and we started to make our way to Main street. This street, as I remember it, was four lanes….two going North, and two going South with a little turn lane in the middle.
As we got out the front door, I took off running…The baby sitter yelled for me and I never even looked up…I was so excited, I just wanted to get across the street! I ran across the front lawn, across the sidewalk, leapt off the curb and the babysitter was screaming….
“BRAAAADDDDLEY….NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
And one step into the street and WHAM!
Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, spinning like a top and completely disoriented, I could hear brakes squealing and people yelling but I had no idea what was going on.
I had run out into the street and was struck by a guy on a motorcycle….The rules were to look both ways…Clearly, from a very early age, I didn’t think rules applied to me! Now I was in the road, crying in pain and people were all around me… My choices, my results….Wouldn’t be my last lesson at this!
People all around me, running from cars, the hamburger joint, the sidewalks…
“Don’t touch him!!”
“Oh my God, is that little boy OK?”
“Is he hurt?”
And the babysitter, stunned, eyes as big as plates came running up to me to see if I was OK.
“Bradley Oh my God…Are you OK?”
I was more scared than I was hurt, but I guess crying is crying so everyone was consoling me, checking me for broken bones, blood, road rash…etc…
I got up, dusted myself off, wiped the tears from my eyes and asked the babysitter whimpering…
“Can we go get a hamburger now?”
Of course, once again, my choices got me my results and we didn’t go to the hamburger joint…We went home, and the babysitter frantically got on the phone to reach my parents.
Remember, there were no cell phones in those days, and the phones, they had wires attached to the wall and these round things on the front with numbers on it that you had to put your fingers in and turn….
Shhhhkkkkkkk…..clic, click, click click…..Shhhhhhkkkkk….click, click, click…
and she called the restaurant where my parents were to tell them what had happened. This wouldn’t be the last time I interrupted a meal and a nice night out for my folks…
They came home, scared to death, the babysitter crying and apologizing as she told the story and me, sitting in a corner whimpering at my punishment. I don’t remember that babysitters name but I bet she still tells that story to this day…..
See, we never know the impact of our choices and how we can affect others with the things we do.
Anything inside that immobilizes me, gets in my way, keeps me from my goals, is all a result of my choices.~Wayne Dyer~
I had many more adventures and troubled times in Highlands and at the age of 8, my parents, after a skiing trip to Colorado, decided that we would move our family to the Rocky Mountains and start a new life.
I wasn’t the only one that liked adventure and although my parents probably didn’t see it then, it was in my genetic makeup to be adventurous…Little did I know then how my life would unfold…Because this was simply the beginning…There have always been fences to climb, these were the first few!
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